No Allegiances
by RageFeline
Summary: A serious view on World War II events as shown in Hetalia. Rated T for now, but may be changed to M as violence escalates.  Next Chapter: Germany and Eastern Europe 1939-1941
1. Introduction

Disclaimer: I own neither Hetalia nor the world.

Warning: Events may happen out of order, most jumps forward or back in time will be noted to lessen confusion.

xxxxx

"Germany, I'll save you~!"

The now haggard nation-man turned to face his friend. Wearily he moved, as if ever bone in his body was brittle, and liable to crack if not treated gently. Between his insane boss, the now-flagging war and keeping an eye on his allies, he'd been pushed to the brink. If it was up to him, he would have surrendered. Him. Germany. The eternal soldier. He would have knelt before the quarrelsome allies and laid his weapon down, if only to spare his people. But already, he'd lost so many. If it had been up to him, this war would have never started.

Bullets surrounded him and Italy as they took cover from an allied attack. He saw his friend's face, dopey, but caring as ever. His eyes widened in shock as he saw Italy throw the pin, as he'd done so many times.

"I-Italy! No!" He didn't have time to dive for his friend. Even the allies were shocked as bloody mist painted the blue sky.

xxxxx

"He... was a good boy." France buried his head in his hands as he slumped in his chair and rested his elbows on the tabletop. His locks, still silken, despite his troubles, fell unkempt about his head to provide a further shield. His grief cast shadows on the walls of their sunny meeting room. The ambiance felt mocking; large windows revealing a few wispy clouds sailing through the sky and a dazzling sun.

"And he'll be alright." England took a sip of tea and tried to hide his own sadness behind annoyance. "These things happen to us nation-folk. And anyway, this just means... It just means we're closer to ending this war."

Russia gave a serene smile, but didn't speak. Perhaps it was better that way, England thought. The nation'sprescence was even more unsettling now. He was more battered than the rest of them, but still kept his smile. Glancing surreptitiously at the nation's bullet-torn coat he suppressed a shudder. _Cannon fodder_... America was certainly right on that account.

China and America were absent, off dealing with Japan. Which was good, England didn't want to have to deal with America's reaction to Italy's violent 'death,' whether it was triumph over a 'villain', or despair. For the moment, Italy was Germany's problem. They would see what happened once he was pieced back together, whether he'd retreat for good or if he'd truck on.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to gather some intelligence." France didn't move; Russia murmured a stock farewell, still with that sickening smile on his face. England turned his back and tried not to bolt for the door.

Outside, he was immediately approached by one of his agents. "Captain Hook, any information?"

The fairy tale nodded his head and rattled off details on the Axis and Allies. No more alliances or back stabbings, as far as he could see. Agents were wearing themselves down, morale was flagging as soldiers fought through Christmas. England took it all in, none of it a surprise. What concerned him most was the emptiness in his old friend's eyes. No light of adventure; they'd all lost it.

"Thank you... Take a rest. Have that pie I baked for you?" His impassivity was crumpled by a small frown as the myth furiously waved his hands to refuse. Formalities, then Captain Hook set off.

England was left in one of those lulls that inhabited so much time in war. Really, he'd have thought he'd be used to it by now after all he'd experienced. Yet his stomach was still pricked constantly by nervousness and his heart clenched erratically. It was time for a nice cup of tea...

xxxxxx

As the door clicked softly behind England, Russia rose from his seat to be beside France. "I thought you'd be happier, you've suffered quite a lot from them." Russia's arm was draped over France's shoulders, a gesture of friendship and comfort, or a hostile one of restraint. With him it was always difficult to tell. His constant smile widened slightly, but no warmth graced his eyes. "And this is war, da?"

France raised his head. His confusion was evident, rising for one moment above his despair. Not even during the Revolution had he felt so old. Then, he had at least felt the energy of change and boiling hatred in his bones. Even as this war began, had it been so? Whatever the answer to that, it did not matter. For at the moment he was feeble and frozen, a corn husk lost autumn harvest and left for the snows. "...I would have thought... With all your people dead... You would be suffering more." _And yet you smile and laugh like none of us have since we were children._

The smile melted.

"If you would excuse me... Friend." France vacated his seat and walked stiffly out of the room. Behind him, his cloak billowed in a dramatic effect America would have envied when there was time for vanity and games.

Russia dwelled in his silence. It followed him everywhere, and saw light of day even when his home was crowded. Still, he found one brief moment to savor. A moment in which he was alone, but not by events of his own doing. He found himself smiling again and finally left to go home.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Missing Orleans

_1940_

"Getting your revenge like this, Germany... I thought you had learned to be a grown up." He should have guessed that his treatment from Germany would be merciless after all the work he made him do after the last Great War. It was not the resentment, but the brutality that astonshed him. Blood trickled from his mouth; he could feel bone shards resting like live grenades inside of him. Only his pride and resilience enabled him to keep his face out of the dirt.

Germany loomed over France, holding a hefty firearm straight at the fallen man. The only reply he gave was a stiff kick to the ribs and, at last, France passed out and tumbled forward.

Mercy shielded him from seeing his precious younger brother staring at his attacker with admiration.

xxxxx

"Wow, Germany! You beat Big Brother France! I could never stand up to him like-" Italy bounded up toward Germany just as he started his exit from the battlefield. He was eager to leave the churned up grass and dirt behind; for once, meetings and work on paper seemed like a comfort. Though it wouldn't be long before he'd be back out in the field no matter how much he hesitated, as there was a lot of ground to cover. He let out a growl at his ally's lateness, then realized that it might have come in handy.

He caught the rambunctious country with one arm and spun him around. He knew that France and Italy had been close and wasn't ready to be villainized just yet. Why Italy's opinion of him mattered was something he couldn't put his finger on yet. Perhaps it was something to do with how they'd been declared friends, though it hadn't been too long ago. Anyway, he decided that though Italy would have to fight someday, it wouldn't do for him to see his brother in such a state if it wasn't yet necessary. "This way, Italy." As a gentle admonishment, he added, "The battle's already over."

"I meant to come, but I had to take my whole nap so I-"

"Nevermind." Germany took long strides forward, eyes straight ahead as Italy scampered beside him. He ignored his companion's babbling and reviewed the tasks in his immediate future. With each one, he felt the weight on his shoulders increase. His insane boss wouldn't help matters at all; meetings were more of a chore than ever. But, he reminded himself with a measure of sadness, it wouldn't be happening like this if his boss wasn't utterly without marbles or rocker and had probably never had a bat-less belfry.

A light breeze pushed the clouds along and tugged at Italy's hair curl. He looked back at the quickly disappearing battlefield with concern. "Maybe we should go back and make sure he's not too hurt..."

Germany's illusions about helping Italy were swept away with the clouds, rolling back to reveal a true blue reality. Italy needed an awakening. It couldn't wait. "Why did you join this war?"

"Why?" Italy furrowed his brow, then grinned, "Becuase you're my friend, Germany! Oh, and my boss said I had to. He wants land from France and that England guy! But Big Brother shouldn't mind since he always takes from me, too. Like all these paintings he has and still won't give back!"

"You'll fight even if it means hurting your brother? You're willing to do that?"

There, Italy was silenced. A new blankness spilled over his face as a glimmer of understanding warred with him. He was no stranger to wars, and wars between brothers. Time and time again, those he trusted had held him up as a prize and torn themselves apart over him. Italy was no more sheltered from fighing than any other country. Yet he'd managed to maintain an air of innocence and cheer for so long. It would take a lot to bring him down, but this war was well-equipped to do so. He carefully kept emotion away as he spoke, "I understand."

Years later, Germany would recall those as some of the saddest words Italy had ever spoken. Even as Italy forgot, he would hold that bare bone in his hand, feel it lodge in his throat and choke on it. Time, as he grew close to Italy, would only increase its impact on him. For the moment, the sudden break had him stop as his whole body stilled in surprise. His ally was not broken. But he admitted that he knew he could be.

"Ah..." Any reassurance he could give would be empty, even if he knew how to do such things. It was true, and the realistic part of him said it was all better now that he knew Italy understood. "Yes. Good."

Italy bowed his head and watched the sun's creeping rays punch through the remaining cloud cover and stroke the grass. Then he faced Germany and gave a glowing smile, "Can I make you pasta to celebrate our victory? Please!"

Germany was too shocked to even dispute 'our victory.' "...Uh, yes, go ahead."

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"France..." England's voice danced a lazy waltz around France's ears. "France." It solidified and he opened his eyes to the mussed-haired gentleman standing over him.

"Oui, my sweet?" He muttered teasingly through the pain as he felt himself weaving back together. Immortality hurt so much.

The man sniffed disapprovingly, but held back an outburst. Times were too serious for their arguments and squabblings. They'd be shelved for who-knew-how-long before being re-opened like favorite books. "You're lucky he didn't take all of you."

"You say it's luck? What about my own skill?" He sat up straight and forced his smile to appear lazy, "And my resistance is still strong."

"If you're feeling well enough, we have a meeting to get to in an hour." Faintly, barely visibly, he smiled and pride leaked from his eyes when he added, "And yes, it is still strong."

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Author's Note: I'm sorry it's terrible. Fanfiction ate it when I clicked save and when it was rewritten, the suckiness multiplied by 10.


	3. Chapter 2

Sorry for lateness and spelling/grammar issues, I was in a rush, but I promise to do a more thorough proofreadings in the future.

Chapter 2: Brothers

_1937_

China ran his fingers through the stuffed panda's fur as he let his mind drift like the seeds of a dandelion. The feel of it, well-groomed but with a slight roughness that came from authenticity, filled him with melancholy. Before communism, well-meaning imperial guards had brought a panda carcass back to his home and the servants had crafted a doll, using the real pelt. He'd cried for days after realizing it came from a real panda, though he'd had more important things to worry about. Just as he did now.

He shut his eyes and sniffed. And here Japan complained about being old! Japan was a mere child next to him, still glowing in the air of youth, as was proved by the aches and pains plaguing China. He could remember back in his glory days, with the little nation at his heels- and the _whole world _clambering to trade with him and see his country. Now he was just second-rate, worn out and ready to be discarded after everybody decided seeing wasn't enough and wanted a piece. His own children squabbled, causing him pain with every bullet fired. And, just had younger Japan had when he left China's care, they seemed unrepentant, the battles wore on.

The door scraped against the floor and his eyelids snapped back. He gave a shaky half-smile as he dropped the panda and offered a greeting. Now the devil was back on his doorstep, with one of those large guns he'd grown so fond of carrying.

Russia beamed and gave a little wave as his massive frame hovered in the doorway, "Good morning, China." His long strides carried him quickly to the low table China sat at in the center of the room. At first, he didn't sit, but bent to pick up the doll and turn it over, "Ah, now what is this? Playing with your toys, still?"

"Ah- it's just-just a memento." He flipped his ponytail over his shoulder, just as Russia readjusted his scarf in a similar gesture. China winced as his guest gave a small giggle, eyes closed as if caught up in childish delight. "I was taking a moment to reflect."

Russia nodded and sat, crossing his legs and leaning the gun on his thigh. "I see. My boss suggested I come and see you, discuss our... relationship." He cracked an eye open and set aside his characteristic smile for a smirk with a dash of malice, "You don't seem to be doing so well, do you, comrade?"

"C-comrade? You do know-"

"Oh, yes, yes, I know. Your people have not had their voices fully heard yet. All in good time, da?"

China stared with his mouth hanging open and struggled to stutter out a response. He couldn't speak against his current boss, but to go the other way would also bring trouble. Living near Russia so long, he could deal with his strangeness, but the man was different now. More violent and more crazily devoted to his government's ideals. It was like he'd been brainwashed by blood, China thought with a shudder.

"You're afraid? You don't want to hear your people? You know we can't help it, we are connected- we are... _one_with them. But imagine if their voices were free all through your country. The burden would not be yours alone, and everyone would be happy, finally. Because they'd all be one."

But your people's voices _aren't_heard, he wanted to protest. The talk of being one chilled him. Russia had always spoken of such things, but now he was even more vocal about it, if that was possible. He bowed his head, "I just want my people not to fight."

Russia's light hair fell over his face as he nodded, "I know how you feel."

China's eyes widened and he leaned forward, resting a hand of Russia's shoulder, "Russia..?" He almost sounded as normal as he'd ever been, and regretful. China hadn't detected such an emotion in him for years, even with the deaths in his land.

It lasted for a only a second, he raised his head and clamped his hand over China's. "And you could be one with me, you know."

China focused on not jerking away or betraying discomfort. "Y-yes, I understand. And I'm sorry to be so rude, but I am busy, so it's time for me to show you out."

Russia rose to his feet, towering so much that China quickly brought himself to his. "No need, China, I will see myself off. I wouldn't want to be a distraction. I shall see you... soon. Very soon, da?" With a smile and a whipping of scarf he was gone.

With a glimmer of hope soaked in sadness, he whispered to the retreating footsteps. "I hope to see you again, too."

XXXXX

Japan marched. His face was as blank as ever, his communication as brief, and his sword as sharp. All those years he hid with his people, but he did not let himself weaken. Being dragged out and exposed had been unpleasant. America's reasons mattered not to him; all he had wanted was his peace back. Until now, now there was an opportunity wide open. He couldn't stay locked in his world, so he'd make the world his.

Orders and the racket of movement bubbled through his treasured silence as Nanjing came into view. The signal to attack flew like a poison dart from Japan's lips. His men rushed forward, and soon it was all a screaming, burning, cheering mess. He put his hand on his sword hilt and followed the tug on his heart to China.

"You're here." China stared through Japan as if he was a paper screen. He swore he would not let any emotion show in this second betrayal. Wok in hand, he rushed forward, but inner turmoil had made him weak. The blade crossed his midsection, bringing forth a wave of blood. The wound was not deep, but the pain was. He fell to the floor and the tears he had tried to hold in wormed their way to the surface to glisten on his eyelashes. Japan did not pause to look before turning heel and leaving.

China mustered his strength and hurled the wok at Japan. It crashed into his back, and he was knocked down. China struggled to get up, but collapsed again as Japan rose. He picked up his sword and drove it through China's throat. The younger brother wavered before his gaze as China's eyes fell closed and temporary sleep clutched him as his wounds slowly knitted together. Shame at being felled so quickly traced across his heart on a sharp edge.

As he shivered into conciousness, three blond men floated before his eyes. He winced as he recognized them, three Westerners who'd abused him in the past.

"Don't worry, my dear, it's safe here," A man holding a rose smiled faintly.

China stayed still and stared at the ceiling. He wanted to scream at falling into an enemy's hands again as they dressed his wounds without tenderness.

_The Second Sino-Japanese War saw major fighting begin in about 1937, though smaller battles occured throughout the 1930s. Nanjing was the subject infamously brutal fighting. _


	4. Chapter 3

Note: This part of the story will be split into two chapters. I feel bad for being so slow, so I decided I'd put the first part up, then continue in the next chapter. Chapter 5 should be when things really get started.

If anyone is reading this, would you like more clarification of the involved historical events as they appear in the story? Thank you to whoever has read so far!

Chapter 3: Molotov-Ribbentrop

"...All my Baltics?" Russia asked hesitantly, hopefully from across the table. He tapped his pen against his cheek and tried to keep his countenance thoughtful, but Germany could see the deep childish longing in his eyes. It was like watching a puppy try to keep his mouth from watering in the presence of food.

Germany hesitated, then shook his head, "Estonia and Latvia. I will keep Lithuania."

Russia blinked, his eyelids two waves on the blank sea of his face. Germany tensed as he saw his gloved fingers tighten their grasp on his faucet pipe. Russia tilted his head and forced a smile of ice, "I assume this will be open to negotiation, da? It just would not do for little Liet to be separated from his brothers too long."

Lithuania's well-being was of no conern to Germany, and he was sure that wasn't Russia's either. Giving up the territory was something he'd try to avoid. But he had to placate his future enemy, just like all the others, so he gave an open answer. "I'll see. I'm sure we can come up with something more satisfactory to us both."

XXXX

The bare space of Germany's office enveloped Lithuania. Wide windows let in a flood of light, right into his eyes, but he continued to stare steadily into Germany's face. Framed by those windows, he looked the image of the angels Lithuania's people imagined would come to them. His mouth was dry as sand, but he spoke without wavering, "I will not."

"You have to. Those are your orders." Germany locked onto Lithuania with a look that could strangle. He had no time to pay attention to petty ties like 'friendship' that nations like Italy and Lithuania seemed so concerned with- he barely understood it anyway. There was a job to be done and a world to take. "Poland must be defeated."

Lithuania curled his hands into fists and straightened his shoulders. He conjured the memories of his glory days, when his sword was quick and it was his enemies who fell, not him. "We will never bow to you."

Germany narrowed his eyes and rose from his seat. Lithuania was unflinching, he could feel his warrior rising inside of him.

"Perhaps not to me..."

XXXX

The door slammed and Estonia winced; even from the other side of the house he could hear it. His hands rested on Latvia's shoulders, trying to quell their shaking, "Please, just be calm. You can put on a brave front, can't you?" Frustration swirled inside him as he went to greet Russia. Latvia was stronger than he looked, but he wished he would show at least a little of that strength to the outside world. It took ages for rock to erode, but it wouldn't be a concern if the water could be kept away.

"Latvia! Estonia! I have a little present for you!" Their captor's voice carried down the halls, painted with unnerving joy.

Estonia gritted his teeth to keep from shouting back that they were coming if he'd just give them a minute... When he saw who was tucked under Russia's arm, he felt his feet root to the floor. Latvia bumped into him from behind, then cautiously peered around. Lithuania raised his bowed head to toss his brothers a weak smile.

"This is wonderful, da? Now we're all together."

Estonia nodded and forced a greeting. "Welcome back... to you both."

Russia nodded, beaming as he chattered away like a child, "I think this calls for a celebration!..."

He continued, telling the Baltics to fetch his sisters and, of course, some vodka. The trio jumped to it and scurried away as soon as they got the chance.

When they reached the next room, Estonia murmured, "I-it's good to see you again. Though not under these circumstances."

Lithuania nodded to Estonia's words and pressed his hand to his forehead, "I agree... Hello Latvia," The tiniest country had flung his arms around Lithuania's waist as he began to sniffle. Fondly, he patted his little brothers head while giving his signature smile. "Well, let's get to work." He flashed Estonia a look to say they would talk later.

Hours passed as vodka flowed freely from the bottle and tension whipped the air. Russia was the only one who seemed unable to sense it, just as he didn't notice how bony his precious Ukraine had grown or how Belarus's dress had grown shabby. The Baltics quaked as they were invited to sit, but gratefully took the beverage offered. Possibly the only perk to living in Russia's house was the occasion when he gave them all the vodka they wanted to drown their sorrows.

Ukraine returned Lithuania's smile then turned her face from the table as she wiped a few tears from her eyes. It was so hard to be around her brother now. She knew the famines and troubles weren't his fault, but she could feel her people's hate for him, the oppressor. A laugh was forced from her mouth; she tried to let herself be swept away in the tide of the party, but it was impossible, as no one was really celebrating.

Through the wavy haze of his drink, Russia saw all of his friends getting along. Even Belarus wasn't scary as the warmth of unity flooded over him. He was vaguely concious of reciting some of the silly poems they had made together as children- or was it one of the NKVD's lists of people to be shot? The corners of her mouth remained perfectly straight, neither drooping nor lifting, but he was sure that glinting in her eyes was happiness.

She blinked as he stopped mid-sentence in one of her favorite folk tales and started spouting out words from the Communist Manifesto. Nodding, she kept her eyes trained on him, her precious brother. All his whims would be indulged, she pledged to herself, and joined him in spouting the party rhetoric. Beside her, she could feel Latvia freeze, then start to tremble. She dug her elbow into his slide and cast him a sideways glare. He squeaked like a little mouse, gulped down his glass, then joined them. The other two Baltics on the opposite side of the table caught her eye next. Lithuania smiled, but kept his lips firmly sealed. Estonia wouldn't give either. Belarus let out a low growl, but glanced back at her brother and saw he was back into the story. Determined to keep him content, she silenced Latvia with another elbow and listened intently.

Latvia held onto his seat as he waited for Russia to swing into one of his violent rages. He was either a happy drunk or an angry drunk, or sometimes a strange hybrid between the two. Enough of his 'water' and the man was even more uninhibited than normal. Latvia was envious of the monster's inebriated state, if only he was assertive enough to grab some of those bottles- a lot of those bottles- he could be just as oblivious. But no, he hung back and quaked in the shadows, forgotten by the world that could help him if only he had a voice. Here he was again, stuck under the shoe of a bigger, stronger, just plain _better_ country. His heart lit with anger and boiled his sadness, someday he'd be free. Someday, he could be strong, too. But most importantly, safe. Safe with his people and safe with his friends.

XXXX

Latvia feigned sleep as he listened on his brothers' whispered conversation. He'd practiced it enough that he knew just when was the right moment to give a shuddering sigh, or shift under the scratchy, cheap blanket.

"Has he invaded yet?"

"Not yet, soon, though. His bosses argue all day, they haven't talked about it too much. But no matter how unprepared they are, I don't think my people can resist. How about you?"

"Germany didn't do too much." Latvia inwardly nodded, it was the response they always gave, almost fitting, as bruises and injuries were commonplace for them. "I'm worried about Poland, though. I haven't been able to see him... and..." There were still hard feelings between Poland and Lithuania over Vilnius, but the concern was deep in Lithuania. That wouldn't weaken their friendship, Latvia understood. His big brother was better than that. Lithuania gathered himself with a deep breath, but Estonia gently broke in.

"And he's surrounded with no expectation of help. But he'll endure, he always does." Lithuania was silent, then spoke, with a horrible, ringing of deadness in his voice, "Everyone has a breaking point."

_Where is your faith?_ Latvia wanted to cry out. Lithuania, with his cheer and his eyes turned heavenwards to his god and his angels. His inner strength and the most solid core any of them had. _Where is your faith? What did they do to my brother?_

XXXX

_The 'Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact'/ Treaty of Non-Aggression Between Germany and the Soviet Union divided Europe into East and West 'Spheres.' Lithuania was originally Germany's, but was given to the Soviet Union after refusing to attack Poland. _

_Next Chapter: The Winter War, the invasion of Poland and the German attack on the Soviet Union. _


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